They were shimmering moths, composed entirely of light, spiralling up from the bodies to the ceiling and then passing through it like ghosts. As the moths departed, the gods’ bodies began to break up, as though they were as insubstantial as light. When the final moth had fluttered away, all the bodies had vanished.
Church snatched up one of the guards’ short swords and progressed towards the heavy drapes that sealed off Niamh’s bed-chamber. Pulling back the thick fabric, he found Niamh being menaced by the stranger from the market. Church recognised the long, black hair and overcoat, but the face … it was a thing of abject horror. Noting Church’s arrival, the stranger’s lips twisted into a cruel grin revealing needle-sharp animal teeth, stained with blood. Church registered a goatee beard and an aquiline nose, but it was the eyes he would never forget – lidless and fiery red with a small black pupil. When the full force of them was turned on him, Church felt their gaze pierce his very soul.
‘Well, this is something I hadn’t bargained for.’ The attacker crooked his arm tighter around Niamh’s neck, her beautiful features fragile next to his brutal frame. His right hand was raised ready to strike, the fingers pointed to reveal bloody talons.
‘Leave her alone,’ Church said.
‘What’s this? Misplaced loyalty? Or have you already grown into your role of lapdog? Jump through hoops for the mistress. Woof, woof!’
Church bristled at the echo of his own thoughts. ‘She doesn’t deserve to die like those others out there.’
That would be a matter of opinion. I think she does deserve to die. I presented her with a perfectly good opportunity and she chose to turn me down. I find that very disrespectful.’
Jerzy had been watching the scene, wrapped in the drapes. Tentatively, he stepped forward and tugged gently at Church’s arm. His eyes pleaded but he said nothing.
‘Speak up, you grinning buffoon!’ the intruder said. ‘Ah, I see. You don’t want to be seen to be disloyal in case, by some extremely slight probability, your mistress escapes with her life.’ The intruder said to Church in a tired voice, ‘What he’s trying to tell you is that you should let her die because then you will both be free of her control. And that sounds eminently sensible to me.’
‘But even then I’d still be a prisoner,’ Church replied, ‘of my guilt.’ His eyes briefly locked with Niamh’s.
‘You really have been seduced by her propaganda, haven’t you?’ the intruder said wearily. He flexed his fingers and prepared to strike.
‘Who are you and what do you know about Ruth?’
The intruder’s cruel smile grew more enigmatic. ‘Finally, a discussion that really matters. Of course, the first question is the most important. Let’s talk about me. What should you call me? I have many names, and you’ll never discover the one that really counts. But for the sake of argument you may call me the Libertarian, because I believe in personal freedom … from the rigours of choice, from life itself. See? I too can play the favourite game around these parts.’
The Libertarian increased the pressure on Niamh’s neck with a twist of cruelty. She clawed at his arm, her breathing shallow.
‘I said, let her go.’ Church raised his sword.
‘Ooh, a weapon,’ the Libertarian said with mock-dismay. He was unthreatened, but he released the pressure of his arm a little so Niamh could gulp air. Church took a step forward. The Libertarian’s red gaze became so menacing that Church stopped dead in his tracks.
Summoning his strength, Church asked, What about Ruth? Tell me.’
‘Ah, the love of your life, waiting so mournfully at the end of time—’
‘What do you mean?’
‘A word to the wise: her survival is wholly dependent on you. Interfere in any way and she will die.’
‘I don’t understand. Interfere in what?’
The Libertarian made a faux-puzzled expression. ‘Now there’s the question. Perhaps it would be better not to interfere in anything, just to be on the safe side.’
His words triggered a moment of revelation. ‘You … and whoever murdered my friends in Carn Euny … and the spider-thing that controlled the Redcaps – you’re all together in this.’ Church added a disturbing codicil: And Etain, too.’
The Libertarian continued to play his part with studied theatricality. ‘Look at Existence, all nice and shiny and neat and new. Then pull back the surface and, lo, there we are. An army … no, that doesn’t do us justice – a civilisation. We’re all around you, all the time, yet you never see us, not really, not directly. Just an occasional glimpse on the periphery of vision. We live in the cracks between reality. We watch from the shadows, peer from the depths of caves, from drains and sewers, from the dusty windows of empty houses and rooftops at night.’